Random Blarg

(because it's coming out, one way or another)

This has been an interesting week. At work, I got my interview for the permanent-employee version of my job. I feel really good about it, and unless they find a better me than me, I think it's going to go in my favor. I love my job, and for multiple reasons I want this, one of which is health insurance for my family.

We spent the latter half of the day today watching our girls in their school variety show, and shopping for necessities. We barely have the means to do that anymore, since we are in the thirteenth month of my husband's unemployment. But, any time we have a little bit extra, we usually head over to Walmart or Target. This has been a rough year. I've never actually felt so close to poverty before. We've had to tighten our belts before, but I've never had to choose between bills and food until now.

So there are times when I am so stressed and so exhausted that the idea of writing seems like a sweet dream I can vaguely recall. But this week, I have stuck to my guns and have followed my organizational plan. Some of my writing I'm happy with, and some has been crap. (Speaking of which, I am following a new blog at Dissident Writers. I am definitely highlighting this on a Wednesday!) But overall, it's a WIN for the week.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to always keep up, but I am going to try. I have learned to persevere in life, and I will continue as long as I can. I can only imagine that exhaustion will be my biggest obstacle.... if I miss a post, it's because I've passed out on my way to the computer!

We shall see what we shall see.

Come, Let Us Write Together

Here are the rules:

I provide three random words. You write anything, incorporating those three words. Then post a link to your work (wherever you post your story) in the comments section.

The three words are: nostril, rooster, cannon

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He pinched the bridge of his nose, squinted, and tried to think through the pain. Was it another sinus infection? It would be the third one this year, and he was tired of the migraines. This condition was starting to interfere with his life. Wasn't that a sign of a serious problem? He could feel a sneeze coming on and uttered a silent prayer. The snoring, the infections, the migraines; how could he get some relief? The tickle started in his nostril. Then he could feel his eyes start to itch and water. He opened his mouth in a half yawn, and sneezed loudly. The rooster was propelled out of his nose like a cannon shot. Almost immediately the headache began to disappear, and he was breathing easier. As a giant, he thought he should try to learn how to deal with this kind of thing, but the truth was, he probably needed to address the snoring. Preventative measures would pay in the long run. It was such a relief to find out it wasn't the bird flu.
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Yikes. Thank goodness it's just a writing exercise to get the juices flowing! lol

Let's Go To The Map

('cause you can never know too much)

Peripeteia [per-uh-pi-tahy-uh] (Greek, Περιπέτεια) is a reversal of circumstances, or turning point. The term is primarily used with reference to works of literature. The English form of peripeteia is peripety. Peripety is a sudden reversal dependent on intellect and logic. In modern Greek περιπέτεια means adventure.

Aristotle defines it as "a change by which the action veers round to its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or necessity." According to Aristotle, peripeteia, along with discovery, is the most effective when it comes to Drama, particularly in a Tragedy.

There is often no element like Peripetia; it can bring forth or result in terror, mercy, or in comedies it can bring a smile or it can bring forth tears (Rizo). This is the best way to spark and maintain attention throughout the various form and genres of drama.

Peripeteia includes changes of character, but also more external changes. A character who becomes rich and famous from poverty and obscurity has undergone peripeteia, even if his character remains the same.

When a character learns something he had been previously ignorant of, this is normally distinguished from peripeteia as anagnorisis or discovery, a distinction derived from Aristotle's work.
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Because I am exhausted, I can't wrap my brain around writing my own example of this; however, here is an excellent example already written :

The earliest use of peripety in a murder mystery was in "The Three Apples", a medieval Arabian Nights tale. After the murderer reveals himself near the middle of the story, he explains his reasons behind the murder in a flashback, which begins with him going on a journey to find three rare apples for his wife, but after returning finds out she cannot eat them due to her lingering illness. Later at work, he sees a slave passing by with one of those apples claiming that he received it from his girlfriend, a married woman with three such apples her husband gave her. He returns home and demands his wife to show him all three apples, but she only shows him two. This convinces him of her infidelity and he murders her as a result. After he disposes of her body, he returns home where his son confesses that he had stolen one of the apples and that a slave, to whom he had told about his father's journey, had fled with it. The murderer thus realizes his guilt and regrets what he has just done
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I love this example because it is like reading the origin of drama. There are so many stories that follow this outline, in one form or another. My story is a beloved adopted child, and reading the original idea is like meeting one of its birth parents.

I hope you learned something interesting today, I know I did!

Sharing The Wealth

(so many resources, so little time)

Today I'd like to highlight the blog of published author, Erica Orloff. Please click the link and enjoy her down to earth posts, laced with excellent 'been there' advice and her uncanny knack of taking every day life and turning it into a lesson in writing.

She also has handy links to resources and other blogs, a few of which you may see here some Wednesday.

Happy reading!

infinitesimal fiction

(it's just like fiction, only smaller)

I cannot believe it, but I finally wrote something!! The idea of a bite sized story really helped me not be overwhelmed. So much so, that I think I did NOT write Microfiction. It ended up being 619 words! Which, correct me if I'm wrong, is actually Flash Fiction.

Still..... WOW! I wrote! I am posting my story below, so please feel free to comment and/or let me know if this is Flash ('Cause I'm pretty sure it's not micro.)
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Waiting
by CE Wood

Kris looked around the room and tried to hide her disgust. She didn’t belong here, with this group of freaks. It was harsh, but brutal honesty was always more appropriate than a sensitive lie. She reached up to touch her temple. A wisp of honey gold had escaped from her bun. She tucked it behind her ear and adjusted her glasses.

“Well,” a low, smoky voice slid past her ear. “Where have you been?”

Kris looked up to see a tall platinum blonde dressed in black leather leering from under enormous fake eyelashes.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Kris was uncomfortable.

“Oh, no, I would have remembered you. My name is Carlotta. I meant, ‘Where have you been all my life?’”

Kris looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. She couldn’t decide what was more humiliating, that she was being publicly ogled by an Amazonian Marilyn Monroe, or that she was seriously considering turning to the circus for help.

Carlotta followed her gaze. “The boy is Tony. He’s twelve and he likes to play with fire. To his left is Jess.” The young woman was hunched over, her black greasy hair almost concealing her face completely. She clutched her wool sweater closed, quietly weeping. “She never stops. I don’t think her daddy was a nice man.”

An involuntary shiver shot down Kris’ spine. “Across from Jess is Mattie. Steer clear, she is one pissed off chica.” Mattie was glaring at Jess, her face carved into deep grooves of rage.

“Would you just shut up, already? Jesus! How much longer do I have to sit here listening to your pathetic whining? Get over it!” Mattie’s wild, red hair shot out like a halo of flames. Jess seemed to shrink impossibly small, her body wracked with sobs.

There were six other people Carlotta had yet to introduce; wouldn’t one of them say something, anything?

“Stop,” Kris whispered. Mattie’s head whipped around and Kris could feel the full weight of her wrath bearing down.

“What did you say?” The wild look in her eyes made Kris want to run.

Kris calmly gathered herself up, smoothed the front of her suit jacket, and walked to the door. Through the tiny, rectangular window she could see a nurse studying someone’s chart. She lightly rapped on the door, trying to catch the nurse’s attention.

Carlotta sidled up beside her and gently trailed the backs of her fingertips down Kris’ cheek. “Her name is Joanne, but she can’t hear you,” she purred.

Kris could feel the panic tightening in her chest, her breathing turning quick and shallow. She slapped at the door with the flat of her hand. “Excuse me, Nurse Joanne? Can you hear me? I’m ready to go. Can you come open the door?”

Behind her she could hear Mattie raving at someone, Jess’ sobs had turned into a wail of despair, Tony was going from person to person asking for a lighter. So much noise. Everyone was trying to be heard over one another, the sound rising to a fever pitch.

Kris curled her hands into fists and began pounding with all her might. “Nurse!” she screamed, “Nurse, please! I don’t belong in here, I don’t belong with these, these people! Can’t you let me out? I demand to be released from this room!”

Joanne glanced up at the little window. “Ed, I need you to prepare a sedative please,” she called to the nurse’s station. “It seems Ms. Doe is experiencing some anxiety.”

Ed approached with a syringe. “Should we bring her out of the room?”

“No, the doctor needs to conduct a full examination, and until he can determine a prognosis, we have strict orders to keep her in solitary confinement.”
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In Today's News

The Power of Words -- Plane Crashes Off Lebanon Coast

The tragic story today was the fateful flight of the Ethiopian Airlines Boeing 737 that crashed just after take off, two miles off the coast of Lebanon. The plane carried 90 people; 21 bodies have been recovered, so far no survivors.

Plane crashes are reported with regular frequency, statistics given, articles contain personal information about passengers, to help humanize the story and help the reader feel connected, invested. This particular article, however, contains a subtle element of mystery. Out of the 1,153 words that comprise the article, two small paragraphs leave the reader with a sliver of doubt as to the circumstances surrounding this supposed 'accident'.

'Lebanese President Michel Suleiman said terrorism was not suspected in the crash of Flight 409. "Sabotage is ruled out as of now," he said.'

The statement was tucked in between talk of a country in mourning and an aircraft with a spotless inspection record. It was followed later with the following information:

'The plane was carrying 83 passengers and 7 crew, Lebanese officials said. Aridi, the transportation minister, identified the passengers as 54 Lebanese, 22 Ethiopians, one Iraqi, one Syrian, one Canadian of Lebanese origin, one Russian of Lebanese origin, a French woman and two Britons of Lebanese origin.'

The questions left in the wake of 9-11, even 9 years later, surface with a few well-placed words. 'Terrorism', 'Sabotage', 'Iraqi', 'Syrian'. With no proof to the contrary, even in the face of wicked weather, poor visibility, and high winds, the reader is left with a sense of reasonable doubt.

It is the power of words. A writer who wields them wisely, can affect the world around her.

Sunday Snippet

"But avoid foolish and ignorant disputes, knowing that they generate strife." ~ 2 Timothy 2:23

The good news is we have a guideline for reducing the stress of always being right.... it's called doing the right thing. No need to argue, keep the peace and that's what you'll have!